Category: Uncategorized

I have a lot of trouble with pride. For as long as I can remember, my two goals in life have been this:

1. Win
2. If you don’t win (or even if you do), always save face.

I can’t really tell you why I became a competitive and prideful person, but most of the time I like to blame my parents who have the same competitive and prideful tendencies. The difference is, the both of them combined made a mega-monster (me) of competitiveness and pride that is a little over the top.

Part of having this tendency toward pride and saving face is that I haven’t always felt comfortable telling the world what I really enjoy. Especially when it comes to media. When I was a teenager, I loved reading music and architecture magazines just as much as I loved reading Cosmopolitan. But Cosmo was what vapid girls read, so when asked what magazines I enjoyed reading, I only talked about Rolling Stone and Architectural Digest. Looking back, these are kind of nerdy things to be telling everyone you read in high school, but I thought it made me seem cultured and smart.

I also enjoyed the movie 10 Things I Hate About You just as much (if not more!) than Fight Club and Requiem for a Dream. However, again, 10 Things seemed shallow, so I only mentioned Fight Club and Requiem because those made me seem more open minded and artsy.

I loved good ol’ country Taylor Swift just as much as I loved my favorite punk bands — but I wasn’t shouting it from the rooftops. You get the picture.

So, as I grew up and people continued to ask me questions about what my favorite books, movies, tv shows and music were…I started to get over saving face little by little. At least enough to tell you about it now.

But two TV shows remained in my “never tell anyone you watch these” show banks for a LONG time. I would splay over the couch at home watching them in secrecy. I would laugh along, getting sucked in for hours, and craving more once a season ended. For years when people would ask me what my favorite TV shows were, the titles of these two shows would never, EVER, creep across my lips.

However, I found myself watching these shows so much that I would begin validating them. I didn’t watch them because I was brainless — I watched them for the social science behind it all. Yeah! That’s it! Social science!

Eventually, I stopped caring and started embracing. I know that I am intelligent, well-rounded, and even a little cultured. I know deep down that what I watch does not make me who I am. Ladies and gentleman, I’m proud to say that YES, I love THE KARDASHIANS. and YES! I love 90% of the REAL HOUSEWIVES! I’m not ashamed anymore because the love is real. It’s real, guys. It’s real.

I love cringing at a housewife making a total fool of herself in front of cameras. I love laughing at random pranks that Khloe will play on her sisters. I love observing, analyzing, and picking a “right” side of a ridiculous argument. That is my fun and entertainment. And yes, I may once in a while spit out very stupid sounding words that I hear on these shows while in a comfortable context because I am humored by it. But that doesn’t mean I am trying to walk/talk/act like these people and more importantly, come off like one. Even if I *do* think they’re fabulous and funny.

So go ahead, judge away. I don’t give a rip. I love watching filthy rich people complain about their problems while vacationing on million dollar yachts, getting in fights at their fancy restaurants, and calling themselves fat as they squeeze into a pair of pants that probably wouldn’t even fit around my arm and cost twice the amount of my car. Don’t care.

source: RealityTVGifs

I can’t be the only well-educated person who loves some contrived drama from overly vain rich-people! Do you love the Housewives franchise and the Kardashians as much as I do? Or are you still in the closet about them? Is there some other guilty (or not so guilty) pleasure you prefer?

For some reason on Friday and Saturday nights, I can’t stay up past 10 for the life of me, weaving in and out of consciousness while trying to watch a movie or yawning through dinner and drinks.

But then comes Sunday. I stay up watching Walking Dead at the boyfriend’s house until 10 o’clock (you can’t possibly expect me to wait a whole day to watch it, can you?), and then spend half the rive home shivering, waiting for my car to heat up. By the time I get home I’ve somehow found the second wind that I coveted so badly during the previous two nights, chat with my roommate, and decide I need to read a few more pages of The Andy Cohen Diaries. Next thing I know, it’s midnight and I have to be up in five hours.

But I never get up in five hours. My alarm first goes off at 4:30, and somehow in my drunken-like sleep stupor, I hit the snooze button every seven minutes until all of a sudden I hear a faint alarm sound going off in the distance beckoning me to actually open my eyes. That’s when panic sets in. I know I’ve hit snooze way too many times and now I’m up late. I grab my phone, yep, it’s 6 o’clock! and immediately jump out of bed to get ready.

So this morning, as I rushed around my apartment trying to get ready in 15 minutes, cleaning my hair with dry shampoo (don’t judge me), I heard a knock on the door.

My first thought was “who the hell is knocking on our door at 6:10am?!” and then I started to formulate in my head why we were getting a visitor to our door.

I peek through the peep hole of the door and see our next door neighbor. I’ve only chatted with her a few times, each time being pleasant, but she looks like she’s looking down at our pumpkins when I see her. Oh my God, she is so disgusted by our pumpkins she decided to complain about them at 6:00am! She must really hate us!

I opened up the door just slightly, prepared to profusely apologize over our moldy hello kitty-carved pumpkins when she introduced herself (again) and asked if she could use my phone. She managed to lock her phone in with her keys in her car while running so she was locked out of her car and her house.

I left her out there while I went to look for my phone and immediately felt like an asshole. Oh my god, you jerk! You left this poor lady out in the cold with your rotten pumpkins!

I ran back to the door when I had my phone, let her in, and invited her to sit down while she called AAA on my phone.

I kept worrying that my roommate would wake up and not realize we had a guest in the apartment. Her dog has a habit of going absolutely bat-sh*t nuts on strangers so I just imagined her coming out from her room, the dog sprinting out and jumping this poor lady in the face while she wondered who in the hell has infiltrated our apartment.

Well, she didn’t realize anyone was here. She incoherently stumbled out of her room, with her dog bounding out in front of her. She looked confused and bewildered and I had to whisper-explain what was going on. Luckily, her dog didn’t rip our neighbors head off. Just turned around and barked at ME like I was the one to blame.

Eventually AAA was called and I offered our neighbor a ride to the coffee shop up the street in case she wanted to wait in warmth. She declined, thanked us, and went outside to wait for help.

Tonight we got another knock on the door. NOW we’re getting complaints about the pumpkins! I REALLY need to get rid of those!

It was our neighbor again. She brought us Starbucks cards to thank us for helping her out. Apparently, two different people in the parking lot refused to let her use their phones, and multiple people wouldn’t answer their doors.

I understand there are a lot of scary people out there, and nowadays it seems that no one wants to have contact with others if they don’t have to (I am definitely guilty of this), but to turn-down your own neighbor who is locked out of their house in freezing temperatures? Heartless.

Little did I know that helping this lady out would mean a contribution to my healthy addiction to coffee. Today, karma was a nice lady bearing coffee cards. 🙂

About Me!

I am, you guessed it, a blonde who loves to wear black. I am here blogging about living in the Pacific Northwest, starting a career, mid-twenties angst (it exists!), having a natural "RBF", and the distress that comes with not being the typical girly-girl.